My Appachen My earliest recollections of Appachen are fragmented but they are held together by the overwhelming love I have for him which never lets me forget moments that are seemingly unimportant to others. Even today tucked away in the pages of my Bible is a small picture -it is the only photograph I have with me but my mind holds a million other memories. I remember a hunched up frail old man sitting on his haunches by the roadside awaiting our arrival every summer. He must have been there for hours which I have now realize on hindsight , and we kids would all yell heartily when we spotted him. He would climb into the car and ride with us till we reached home. I remember waking up early in the morning when everyone was asleep and walking with him to collect cashew nuts. We would walk for hours past the tapioca plants dripping with the morning dew, we would cross the Thod or stream and past the rubber trees and pepper vines climbing on the jackfruit trees with me listening to every word he had to say. He always talked of things that were not of that world to me- stories of Shakespeare and Dickens who were his favourites- I heard of Cymbeline and The Two Gentlemen of Verona even before I could read English. I knew almost all of Shakespeare's Tales before I was six and I could never teach Julius Caesar without thinking of him. "The Ides of March have come … Aye, Caesar but not gone." Those words had special relevance for he was born on the Ides of March and I like to think that he shared something special with me because I was born a day after him. |
| Our cashew nut collection would end with him roasting them for me. He would put them in a pile of sand with burning coals over them and the smell of the roasting cashew and its taste will forever conjure up my Appachen cracking the hot kernels open so that I could eat them. He also smelt of toddy, the locally brewed alcohol and everything he did I enjoyed so I would be treated to the sweet toddy that the tappers brought down from the palms even when I was four years old! Every time he went down to the toddy shop he would bring me paripuvadas and bananas; sometimes hard boiled sweets that looked like orange segments in bright colours or a handful of Jeerakamottai. In the evenings he would regale us with his songs- some of them written by him- or he would look at the stars and tell us the time. As I grew older it was a game for me to challenge him. I would take him out on to the terrace of the house where we lived in Bangalore and keep him there from the early evening and when the stars came out and I felt that he would have lost all track of time I would ask him to tell me the time and unfailingly he would let me know the time to the minute! That never ceased to fascinate me- even now I wonder at his accuracy. His knowledge of astrology was profound and sometimes frightening. He foretold so many things that have come to pass in our lives. Most of all I always lived with the fear that I would lose my mother early- He had told me on more occasions than one that your mother will not live to see her 69th birthday. She died of cancer seven months short of her 69th birthday. I remember the torrential rain and water gushing from the gutters on the roof. I remember standing under the gushing water pounding on my head and Appachen smiling ruefully while mummy threatened me with dire consequences. I remember sitting in the Pattam after an oil massage waiting for the water to get hot for a bath with Appachen instructing workers to light the fire to boil the water. Everything he did showed his concern, he made every summer holiday something to treasure. I remember the quaint blue plates on which Ammai served the chicken curry- the chicken he would chase around and catch so that we could have a treat! I watched him de-husk coconuts- just so that I could see how it was done. He was everywhere- always around me when I went home to him. What is of special significance to me is his contribution to who I am today- He had ' Great Expectations' of me and I always wanted to live up to them. He gave me my first magazine' The Treasure Chest' while we were going to Bangalore at a railway station in Trichur and I subscribed to it and wrote articles from the age of seven. Perhaps without realizing, he had sowed in me the love of Literature. I wrote to him frequently and while I have scores of letters tucked away in some old trunk back home I am sending you two that I carry with me even today. They were perhaps the last letters he wrote to me before he died. |
| His love for me inspires me even today to host Grandparents Day in the schools I work in because he had such a profound impact on my life. I have read out parts of his letter to scores of grandparents to tell them that their grandchildren are the ambassadors to a tomorrow that they might never see- they can never tell how they might be shaping the destinies of their own grandchildren. He was the only grandfather I knew. He taught me algebra, literature and science. He encouraged me to be a learner. He had a keen intellect and a logical mind and his belief in me made me believe in myself. I remember the snaking throngs of people that walked all the way to the cemetery when he died. That was testimony to a man who had impacted the lives of so many people. That majestic house atop the hill canopied by the rubber trees still resounds to Pachha Pachha ………. it lives on in my mind as he does- My Appachen. |
| A S H A ' S L E T T E R |
| The Author NOW |
| The Author THEN |